Roses
by JamesLuver
Summary: Anna is left a beautiful bouquet of flowers. She, Daisy, and Miss O'Brien attempt to guess who they're from, but it's Mr Bates who holds all of the answers.


**A/N:** So I've spent the last few weeks desperately attempting to think of something to write for Valentine's Day. And now, with about one and a half hours left of the day, I've come up with this. It's not exactly amazing (written in an hour, edited in half), but I felt like I should honour my joint OTP of the _Downton_ fandom with something at least a little bit fluffy. I'm not very experienced with these two yet (I hope to get better), so hopefully this isn't too painful.

**Disclaimer:** Anna and Bates wouldn't have had to have put up with as much angst if I owned _Downton Abbey_...

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><p><em><span>Roses<span>_

"Anna, Anna!"

The head housemaid looked up in confusion as Daisy barrelled into the servant's hall with wide eyes, clutching a bouquet of the loveliest red roses she had ever seen in her arms.

"They're pretty," she commented with a smile, deducing that probably William had bought them for her. "Who're they from?"

"They're not for me," the young girl answered breathlessly, thrusting them towards her.

Anna frowned in confusion. "They're not? Then who…?"

"They were at the back door," explained Daisy. "They're for you."

Anna's eyes widened. "For me?"

Daisy nodded. "There was a card with them."

With shaking hands, Anna accepted the bouquet from the young kitchen maid. The heavy aroma of the flowers invaded her senses, making her head spin pleasantly. Cautiously, she reached into the heart of the arrangement, where a small, square piece of card was sitting. Taking a few seconds to gently run her fingers over the velvety petals, Anna withdrew the card and turned it over in her hands. The words had been squashed up in an almost unreadable scrawl, but she narrowed her eyes and traced the letters as best as she could.

_My dearest Anna,_

_You are the centre of my world. These flowers are a token of my affections for you._

_With love._

And that was it. Nothing else. Raising an eyebrow, Anna turned the card back over, though she knew the back was blank.

"Do you know who they're from?" Daisy asked her eagerly; in her confusion, Anna had almost forgotten about her presence.

She shook her head, though she couldn't stop herself from treacherously thinking, _but I know who I _wish_ they were from…_

"Perhaps it's someone from the village," the young girl supplied helpfully, then began to list the people she had heard of from the talk of the others. Anna allowed her mind to drift away as the girl continued to chatter.

_You are the centre of my world._ Well, that was silly. She had never been the centre of anyone's world since moving to Downton. She had never walked out with anyone from the village, secretly too terrified of what Mrs. Hughes' reaction would be like should she ever find out, and in all honesty she had never really had a fancy for any of the lads who lived in the neighbouring parts. She supposed they were all nice enough, but none of them had that _something_, that little spark which could light up her world.

None, that was, until Mr. Bates had entered her life. He was even less like any of the usual people she would consider idly as potential suitors, but at the same time he was something that none of the boys could ever hope to be. He was a _man_, a man who had seen the world and had been shaped by his experiences into the noble, kind being that he was today. It didn't matter to her that he was older than she was, nor that he had to use a cane. The thing that many people regarded him with disdain for was one of the things that she loved most about him, for he did not shy away from his injury, but wore it proudly, uncaring of what others thought. He treated her with respect. He treated her as his equal. She loved the fact that he sought her out above everyone else. And, although he had never let his enigma of emotions run further than a few cryptic messages wrapped up in his speech, she hoped that he felt something for her.

Her thoughts were derailed then by the unwelcome arrival of O'Brien.

"What've you got there?" she asked suspiciously as Anna tried – and failed spectacularly – to hide the flowers behind her back.

"Anna's been sent flowers," Daisy said unhelpfully, beaming innocently. "But we don't know who they're from!"

O'Brien's eyebrow arched in disbelief as she coolly regarded the younger housemaid. "I don't think Mrs. Hughes would be best pleased to find out you've got an admirer."

"Who's going to tell her?" Anna shot back, what little patience she had left for the lady's maid quickly diminishing. "Besides, Daisy's already told you that we don't have the foggiest idea of who they're from."

"I bet I do," O'Brien shot back darkly.

This stopped Anna short. "What?"

Daisy's eyes had widened. "Ooh, tell us! Please tell us!"

O'Brien's eyes flashed spitefully. "Well, none of us have to look far to see the way he fawns over you –"

Daisy looked nonplussed, but Anna opened her mouth to argue, feeling a blush work its way furiously into her cheeks, knowing exactly who O'Brien was disturbingly hinting at, but –

"Who fawns over who?"

Oh dear, it couldn't get any worse.

Because John Bates himself had just entered the room.

"Anna's been sent flowers," Daisy chirped happily, retelling the story yet again. Anna wished fervently that Mrs. Patmore would hurry up and call the girl back to the kitchen. Mr. Bates' eyes had found hers over the top of Daisy's head, and she wanted to wither and die. The look was one of friendly enquiry. Clearly he hadn't sent the flowers after all. She couldn't stop her heart from sinking a little.

After holding her gaze for a few seconds longer, Mr. Bates turned back to O'Brien.

"Who fawns over who?" he repeated politely.

O'Brien gave him a cold, calculating look. "Surely you can work that one out for yourself."

He shook his head, still with the air of pleasantness. "I'm afraid not. Would you be kind enough to enlighten me?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly debating whether she should humiliate him. That infuriating smile was still touching the corner of his mouth. Anna could tell that the lady's maid would like nothing more than to wipe it from his face.

When she did not speak, Bates turned back to Anna. She was eyeing the pair with a cross between fascination and fear on her features. Daisy continued to look puzzled.

"Well, since you're confused about where the flowers have come from, I believe I can be of service there. I can tell you who they're from," he told her with a gentle smile, and her heart leapt in her chest. Okay, perhaps she had been wrong. Perhaps they _were_ from him. But surely he wasn't going to declare himself here, in the servants' hall, with a perplexed Daisy and a sneering O'Brien. Surely he wasn't going to say –

"They're from young Mr. Johnson who works in the village sweet shop."

The bottom dropped from her stomach. Her heart clenched in her chest, as though an iron fist had been clamped around it.

"Mr. Johnson?" she repeated, hoping the disappointment wasn't too obvious in her voice. "How do you know that?"

"That's something we'd all like to know," O'Brien sniffed imperiously.

He spoke to the room, but his eyes were fixated on the head housemaid. "I saw him buying them in the village yesterday on my half-day off. He told me they were for you. He's a very nice young fellow, isn't he?"

"Oh, very nice," Anna said, not knowing what else to say.

"Perhaps you should see him, Anna." There was a twinkling in Mr. Bates' eyes, but she couldn't focus on that now. Not now.

"Perhaps I should," she replied through gritted teeth, glaring at that smile. He knew very well how she felt about him; how dare he toy with her in such a way!? How could he direct her towards someone else when he was standing there holding her heart in his hands?

"So they're not from you?" O'Brien said. The scepticism was clear in her voice.

Anna's heart leapt again, until Mr. Bates laughed. He actually had the audacity to _laugh_.

"I'm afraid not, Miss O'Brien," he said drily. "I'm sure you won't condemn me for admitting that Anna is a lovely girl, but I don't think that that would work out, do you?"

"No, I don't," she said snippily, her gaze calculating once again as she searched for any sign of insincerity on his behalf.

But that was the beauty and the tragedy with Mr. Bates. He was always so gallingly _sincere_. At one time Anna had admired him unwaveringly for that, but at the current moment in time she hated him a little for it, too. Her heart lay in two at his feet, shattered like precious glass. How could he…? She had always thought that he was a better man than that, that he liked her better than to throw her around so carelessly. She bit her lip to stop it from wobbling, hid the tears that had inexplicably rushed to her eyes behind the huge bouquet.

Two things simultaneously happened at once after that. Mrs. Patmore began bellowing something about missing herbs, (Daisy bolted out of the room to lessen the wrath that was sure to be brought down on her head) and the bell connecting to Lady Grantham's room began to tingle cheerfully. O'Brien reluctantly exited the room with one last suspicious glance over her shoulder, leaving Anna and Mr. Bates alone at last. Anna buried her nose more determinedly in the roses, refusing to look up and meet the valet's eyes. She heard him take a few steps closer to her, his cane tapping lightly on the flagstones.

"Anna?"

Even though she told herself that she shouldn't, she was unable to stop herself from looking up at the sound of his soft burr, and she internally cursed him for having such power over her. He was smiling at her again, but she couldn't muster the strength to return the gesture.

He saw the tears in her eyes and paled at once, the playful smile vanishing. "Anna, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she answered, her voice wavering thickly, preparing to dive back into the roses again, but he gently grabbed her wrist, pulling the bouquet away from her face.

"It's clearly not nothing," he told her worriedly. "Please, you can tell me what's bothering you."

She laughed harshly, a sound that did not suit her usually sunny disposition. "Nothing's bothering me. I'm overjoyed, actually. You say these flowers are from Mr. Johnson? Well, that's good. That's marvellous!"

"Is it?" he asked her tentatively, his own face falling.

"Oh, yes! In fact, I think I'll go down to the village when I can and thank him personally for such a lovely gift!"

The briefest flash of shock sped over his otherwise unreadable countenance before he spoke again. "Anna, you can't do that."

"And why not?" she shot back defiantly. "If he's taken a fancy to me, then why can't I give him a chance?"

She took a great deal of unladylike, vindictive satisfaction at seeing the way the lump in his throat worked to think of a response. Now he was no longer bothering to hide his horror from her.

"Well?" she prodded.

He swallowed hard once more, before hoarsely beginning to speak. "Because he wasn't the one who sent them."

This took the wind from her sails immediately. "What?"

Seeing her deflate in front of him appeared to give him the strength to continue with a little more confidence. "I said he wasn't the one who sent them."

"But you just said he did!"

"I know. That was a rather shameful cover-up, I'm afraid."

Anna's heart had slowly begun to crawl back together again, but she refused to get her hopes up in case they were proven false once more.

"Then if it wasn't him, who was it? Please don't tell me it was Mr. Hale from the bakery."

He laughed a little nervously. She noticed he was gripping his cane rather tightly. "I'm not about to go around naming every young man in the village."

"So tell me if you know," she pressed.

"Well…" he shifted his weight, then leaned in to brush his thumb boldly across her cheek, revelling in the sharp intake of breath from her perfect mouth. "He's an old man who doesn't deserve you at all. He's not handsome like any of the young men in the village, but I'm told that you don't care about that. He doesn't talk about his feelings well, and his mystifying way of speaking seems to do more harm than good, I've recently found, but I also know that he cares about you the way that you care about him."

The speech wasn't exactly romantic and it wasn't exactly an outright declaration of love, but at that moment Anna would have sworn before God that it was the most beautiful thing that she had ever heard in her life. The ire that she had felt only moments ago simply melted away with his words and the feel of his fingers running softly down her face to cup her jaw. Her eyelids fluttered.

"W–What are you saying, Mr. Bates?" she gasped, feeling him draw ever closer. Her lips trembled in anticipation when she felt his warm breath on her face.

"I'm saying that they're from me," he answered her huskily, before moving in to press his mouth to hers, the bouquet of roses trapped between them, their scent making the duo dizzy with desire and the elation of finally – _finally_ – expressed feelings. It didn't matter that they were in the servants' hall. That was part of the thrill, Anna supposed, as she opened her mouth shyly beneath his. A shiver of excitement rushed down her spine as he took her up on her offer, slipping his tongue behind her teeth.

Moments later, however, he pulled away, mindful of the fact that they could be found at any instant. His fingers caressed her cheek one last time before leaving her, and he stepped away to put a respectable distance between them. A pretty blush which suited her countenance perfectly, he silently decided, had spilled over the bridge of her nose and her pretty blue eyes sparkled joyously.

"Am I forgiven?" he said, his old cheek returning as he noted the way that her tongue ran over her lips, savouring his taste.

"You are," she replied breathlessly. She remembered the card. _My dearest Anna…You are the centre of my world…These flowers are a token of my affections for you…With love._

_With love._

"You most certainly are," she said and, throwing caution to the wind a second time, kissed him firmly.

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><p><strong>AN:** So...hopefully I haven't mutilated this ship. :P


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